


When He Returns...

by natsmovingcastle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 11:49:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21074408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natsmovingcastle/pseuds/natsmovingcastle
Summary: This fanfiction crossover brings Merlin into the world of Harry Potter. It picks up right from when Merlin is seen modern day, staring into the distance, longing for Arthur's return. Finally, as Kilgharrah once said all those years ago, Arthur returned when the Albion needed him most. Voldemort is back, and it is Arthur's mission to not only protect Harry Potter and the Albion, but the world from the wrath of Voldemort. Will Merlin be able to fulfill his duty this time and keep Arthur safe?





	When He Returns...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Courtney Payne ;)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Courtney+Payne+%3B%29).

Despite being alive for over 900 years, every day has felt the same ever since… that day. He didn’t even need to look outside his window earlier this morning to know what the weather would be like. The thick English fog made it difficult to see anything that was more than a meter in front of him. It didn’t matter to him though. The road that he was walking didn’t require his eyes, nor his magic; he’s taken it so many times before. His heart felt heavy as he got closer and closer. Finally he stopped, and turned to his left. In the far distance, if he concentrated hard enough, he could see the faintest outline of the structure that stood tall in the middle of the lake. He expected tears to come out of his eyes, but they were empty, drained of them after the countless nights he spent crying, mourning for his friend and lover to once again return. All that was left was the hollow shell of Merlin’s body, wandering purposelessly until the day Arthur would once again return.   
Despite the centuries he spent in solitude, Merlin had little to no new information about what Arthur’s return would be like. The only information he had was the distant echo of Kilgharrah’s voice in a loop from the day the world took Arthur away from him. “Arthur is the once and future king. Take heart, for when Albion’s need is greatest, Arthur will rise again.” What does that even mean? Merlin scoffed, and started to walk forward, wandering aimlessly with no purpose or destination in mind. When Arthur comes back, will he look the same? Will he remember his past life? Will he remember Merlin, and all the moments they shared together? Will it be weird because Arthur has been gone for so long, and Merlin’s aged so much? “Will he remember that I wasn’t able to keep him safe like I always promised I would?” Merlin sadly whispered to himself, so low it was almost inaudible, his words being carried away in the direction of the wind. Today is just another day without Arthur, as it always will be. Merlin had so many questions he wanted to ask Kilgharrah since that day, but he’s never returned since then. But if Arthur is to rise again when Albion needs him most, what does that mean for him, as well as for Merlin? Is there a force stronger and more evil than Morgana that will need Arthur?   
Among the countless dreary and grey days without the presence of Arthur, Merlin does remember one time when he was hopeful that Arthur would return. Despite the chaos and concerns Merlin had to handle, a part of him deep inside felt incredibly excited and warm to once again be held in Arthur’s strong arms. It was the time of He Who Must Not Be Named. Countless brave Witches and Warlocks sacrificed their lives for the good of humanity. What made that time so dark was not only the evilness of He Who Shall Not Be Named, but the fact that the magical community, which was close-knit even at the time Merlin was still a young wizard, was turning against each other. Neighbors could no longer confide even in their closest confidants and lifelong friends. Many of the Death Eaters were masters of disguise, living their secret life in the shadows of the night, and it was nearly impossible to tell who was a Death Eater, versus who was under the influence of the Imperius Curse to be falsely accused. He Who Must Not Be Named’s reign of terror did not only cause countless deaths, but a separation and fear in the community that they are still healing from. Merlin felt a chill go down his spine, and it wasn’t from the wind. He picked up the pace in his step, and by looking at him, one might even say he looks as if he’s walking somewhere with purpose, and almost a sense of hopefulness if I may daresay. But anyone who knew Merlin’s story knows that will never be true, until the day his true love will return again.  
Although Merlin did not particular find interest in his new mission, or anything in his life rather, he figured that it would be good for him to do this, rather than sitting in his house and allowing the emptiness he felt inside to overcome him in slow waves. All he felt the entire day was the slow waves of emptiness crashing over him again, and again, and again, until the emptiness traveled from his chest to his eyelids, where he finally slept to only repeat this routine. Finally Merlin stopped walking. In front of him was an old rusty looking boot, which any muggle would’ve guessed was left to be forgotten after years of a beating from its original owner. The boot--a Portkey, and a well-worn one at that--leaned over to the point it was almost about to fall, and the sole was worn thin. Merlin sighed, and took a deep breath. “Here we go…” he muttered to himself as he touched the boot.   
Within seconds, the scenery around him started to completely change. Instead of being surrounded by thick trees and wet mud under his feet, he landed on hard and uneven cobblestone, worn down from centuries of the brightest wizards walking in and out of the campus. Merlin took a second to wonder at the sight of the Hogwarts before him, remembering his time learning there as a young boy. sneaking down the halls much past his curfew, cheering at Quidditch games proudly displaying his green and silver, the countless nights he spent hunched over his spellbooks to study before exams… remembering this put the faintest smile on Merlin’s face. Hogwarts had not changed in nine centuries, and yet it had changed so much. The smile showed how deep his creases have become since the last time any wizard has ever seen him smile in the past. Merlin kept walking forward, each step bringing up distant memories of his time at Hogwarts that he thought he had forgotten. He pushed open the large double gate doors, and saw Dumbledore waiting standing straight down the hall.  
As Merlin walked forward, he could hear the immediate whispering of the young wizards to their friends and peers. “Gulping gargoyles!! Is that Merlin?! It can’t be!” “There’s no way that’s Merlin, everyone knows that since the death of Arthur he hasn’t returned or used his magi-” “SHUT UP, IF THAT IS HIM YOU KNOW YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO TALK ABOUT THE DEATH OF… YOU KNOW!” Merlin rolled his eyes. Young wizards have so much energy.   
“Ah Merlin, here you are!” exclaimed Dumbledore, holding him in a long, warm embrace. Merlin patted Dumbledore on the back, unsure what to do about this affection. “How’ve you been old friend?”  
“I’m okay” Merlin shrugged. “Same old, same old.”   
“Ah,” Dumbledore said, but it was clear his furrowed brow and subtle frown that Dumbledore was concerned. “Well regardless, we’re happy to have you back at Hogwarts as the new head of Slytherin. Your presence is extremely exciting for the students, they look at you as a role model.” Merlin gave a disinterested shrug, which caused Dumbledore to sigh, revealing the many fine lines across his face.  
“Merlin, I’m sorry. But you can’t keep acting like this.”  
“Like what?”  
“Like this!” Merlin jumped, startled by Dumbledore’s sudden irritation. “Merlin, you are and always will be one of the most powerful wizards in all of mankind. You helped protect one of the most influential people in this country, and defeated one of the darkest and most powerful forces of evil. You must respect yourself and your abilities more than you currently do, because we’re going to need all the help we can get. One day, Arthur will return. And do you think he’s going to appreciate that for the last 900 years you’ve sat on your ass all day and moped? Why do you deserve to be the one who protects him when he returns if you can’t even protect other wizards who need you right now, in this moment?”  
“Don’t you dare talk about Arthur like that.” Merlin warned in a quiet but chilling tone. “You don’t know Arthur, you’ve never even met him. You are nobody to say what he does or doesn’t expect, what he does or doesn’t deserve. And you certainly are not one to say whether or not I’m capable of protecting him. I love Arthur, and for that reason I will protect him better than any other wizard can. No matter how powerful or how fancy these new wizards are getting with their spells, nobody would risk life and limb for Arthur. I would in a heartbeat.” Merlin took a deep breath and shut his eyes for a second. He could feel the redness rushing up his face out of sheer anger. He took another moment to calm down before he spoke again. “I will fulfill your request to be the Slytherin head for this school year, but I am not interested in partaking in the ongoings of the magical community until Arthur has once again returned. And clearly with no Arthur in sight, I don’t think we’re in danger. And if we are, it clearly isn’t as much as you’re anticipating. Decades ago when Voldemort was active, Arthur wasn’t here. And he’s still not. Nothing has changed old man.”  
Dumbledore sighed. It was quiet for a long time. Merlin tried to study what the expression on Dumbledore’s face meant, but he couldn’t quite make it out. Part of it was… mischief? Part of it was excitement? And part of it seemed to be fear, which Merlin has never seen on Dumbledore’s face in the 150 years that Dumbledore has been alive.   
“Merlin, I assigned you here for a reason, and that reason was not just to bring some excitement to the incoming first year students. I have a strong feeling Voldemort is going to return Merlin, and I mean it. If this didn’t concern me so much, I wouldn’t have gone out of my way to reach you, especially when you made it clear you didn’t want anything to do with our community,” Dumbledore scoffed. “But regardless, we need you. You are one of the oldest, wisest, and most powerful wizards to still walk on this Earth. Your wisdom is a valuable asset and form of protection that Hogwarts is going to need this year.”  
Silence filled the room.  
“It’s the boy’s first year.” Dumbledore said quietly, barely above a whisper. He didn’t need to say the name; everyone knew of the boy with the lightning bolt shaped scar, even Merlin, who has long lost contact with the magical world and its happenings. “I know that if there is any time for Voldemort to try something mischievous, it is now. We need you Merlin. We need you to protect the boy.”  
After a few moments of pondering, Merlin slowly nodded in understanding. “I’m here to do my job Dumbledore; I will protect the boy and the students of Hogwarts no matter the costs. My only concern however, is that if he is not a Slytherin, which is likely considering his parents were both Gryffindor, I’m not going to be able to keep a very close eye on him.”  
“Ah,” Dumbledore nodded in agreement, and a smile started to slowly spread across his face. Dumbledore’s wrinkles somehow disappeared in that moment, looking more like a young boy awaiting to open presents on Christmas Day. “Yes Merlin, you’re right. That is why I have taken personal responsibility to assigning another strong and talented individual to be the head of Gryffindor.”   
Dumbledore opened the door to his office, and Merlin let out an audible gasp. In front of him stood a handsome young man with sandy blonde hair and bright green eyes that reminded Merlin of the sea on a clear day. Merlin knew those eyes anywhere he went, no matter how long ago it was.  
“I’d like you to meet the new head of Gryffindor: Arthur Pendragon.”


End file.
